Wednesday, April 13, 2011


I like please and thank-you, and courtesies. I personally bend over backwards to avoid, in writing, all four- letter expletives.

I refuse to admit that I was ever a part of the IN world or involved in the super-expensively manufactured, tip-top echelon of cosmeticised, surgically improved, mantra-Kaballah-Yoga-Joe-Pilates educated entertainers, who were the exponents of godliness.

Who specificially?

Well, it was Norman-"advertisements for myself"-Mailer -- and of course Bob-the-poet-chronicler-"blowing in the wind"-Dylan. It included Andy-soup-can-Warhol -- boss Bruce-"born in the U.S.A" -Springsteen. Also, the young Robert Downey Jr. (in and out of jails and various nut houses, sort of like Charlie Sheen ) and the "'oh I'm not gay" Tom Cruise, and the coke-bottle-sucking "truth or dare" Madonna.

And others too -- they were civil, tasteful, quite elegant, mannerly, solemn, self righteous and fantastically Jet-Set CHIC.

Okay, I like please and thank-you, and gracious nods and hand-shakes, and an air-kiss or a bow is a wow; but ... well ... hey ... that's sort of slipping out of prime focus these days.

It's as if Charlie Sheen's public vomiting is a preview of where we are heading with "Jersey Shore's" sloppy nobodies, the various "Wives Shows" with under-scripted, over-dressed married babes, and holy cow -- have you heard rapper Cee Lo 's "Fuck You" hit, or Niki Minaj's "Check it out?" And seen/heard, and tried to sing along with Gaga's gargling her latest semi melodic truths?

And the Kardasians? My goodness, all that much ado about absolutely zero-nothing but stupefyingly boring ego, and, oh dear -- there's other aloof, raw, bulletproof personalities -- like Zuckerberg, with his childlike blank stare controlling how we say "hi."

I am not sure who I am, or where I am, or if I belong in this huge city, my hometown New York City with all these guys-ees, gals-ees dressed in the emperor's new clothes -- with their fleshy parts out there flopping, sagging, bouncing, poking pointing here and there, while they're insulting, attacking, offending, haha-amusing me by amusing themselves.

Should I join in? And do, say, chat about what? Good God, what should I wear?

I don't know what to wear!

Where can I hide. Maybe I shouldn't hide. I should stop, look, listen and make sure I'm not run over while I wend my way back inside my house and pull the shades.

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